‘And I thank you again, very much,’ she added, smiling, and holding out her hand. Myles forgot to be confused as he accepted the hand so frankly extended, and felt encouraged to do what he had thought would be right from the moment she had spoken to him. ‘I am very glad to have been of service. May I ask how far you are going?’ ‘To Blake Street, if you know it.’ ‘I know it well. It is too far for you to go alone, if you will excuse my saying so. It is quite possible that fellow may be hanging about yet. I’ll go with you, if you will allow me?’ ‘Oh! you are very kind,’ said she, with visible relief. ‘I cannot refuse, though I am sorry to take you away.’ ‘Not at all. I can’t fasten to it again,’ said Myles, sincerely. ‘Then, if you would be so good, I should be very grateful,’ said she; and she looked so relieved and so pleased, that Myles felt himself rewarded an hundredfold for the act which had occurred to him as one of simple civility--nay, of almost obvious necessity. They left the town-hall when she had returned her book to the librarian, and passed out into the street turning to the right. ‘This is the shortest way, miss,’ said Myles, distracted as to what he should call her, feeling ‘miss’ disagreeable, he hardly knew why, but, despite the wealth of the English language, having no other alternative than a bold ‘you.’ She relieved his mind as if she had understood his thoughts. ‘My name is Adrienne Blisset,’ said she. ‘I should like to know yours, if you will tell it me?’ ‘Myles Heywood.’ ‘I like it--it is so English, so Lancashire.’ ‘It’s not like yours, then,’ said he. ‘It sounds foreign.’ ‘Adrienne? Yes; that is French for Adriana; but I pronounce it in the German way--Adrien-ne. Don’t you see?’ ‘I never heard such a name--for an English young lady,’ said Myles, simply. ‘I am not altogether an Englishwoman. I am half German. I was never in England till eighteen months ago.’ ‘Never in England!’ echoed Myles, incredulously. ‘Then you speak English amazingly well.’ Adrienne laughed, and Myles asked, ‘How do you like England, now that you are in it?’ ‘I do not know England. I only know Thanshope, and I--cannot say--that I do like it much--if you will excuse me.’ ‘Oh, we don’t expect every one to like our town,’ said Myles, magnanimously. ‘It is a rough sort of a place, I fancy. And I should not think you would like it either. You are not like most of the ladies here.’ ‘No?’ ‘There isn’t another lady in the place who would come to the reading-room as you do.’ ‘Indeed. Why?’ ‘They are too fine, I suppose,’ said he, contemptuously. ‘Too fine?’ ‘Ay. We have a lot of fine ladies here. There’s Mrs. Spenceley, mother of that fellow who was annoying you this evening; but she’s not so fine, certainly, poor thing! But there’s her daughter!’ Myles shrugged his shoulders and turned his eyes to heaven. ‘Is she very fine?’